


Essere Umano

by 37h4n0l



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: M/M, despite the name this fic is not in italian, disregard the OC tag bc its a completely irrelevant character, i felt like i needed to make this clarification, this entire thing focuses on avilio and nero and everything else doesnt really count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7717519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37h4n0l/pseuds/37h4n0l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travelling, drinks, sex. Distinguishing between who's human and who's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Essere Umano

**Author's Note:**

> Each time I publish something, I feel like I need to issue an apology... Oh no, not this time. It's not like some tumblr friendo talked me into showing them the already done portion of the fic and then I promised to finish it within that evening... And ended up getting through with it a day later... (I'm a bad person, don't believe me when I promise you something.)
> 
> On a more important note; I decided to make the title Italian because it has a double meaning. Basically, it translates to 'human being', but also 'to be human'. No, this is not an irrelevant subtlety. I'm a lowlife, but a literary lowlife. I had straight As all throughout high school, so I can assure you that this is important. Really. Absolutely. Unironically.

Something was not going the way Avilio had planned. Not that he had tried and failed his revenge, not that he had been captured, not that he hadn’t come out victorious of every challenge he had faced so far. It was something else; his emotions, the  _ atmosphere _ . Because it was a worryingly lighthearted one.

 

_ He should’ve killed him when he first had the chance. Sneaked up on him and shot him like he did with Clemente, like Nero was about to shoot  _ him _. Poisoned him with their food, slit his throat in his sleep _ .

 

And yet, Nero Vanetti wasn’t lying dead in a tent or a barn, his cold corpse wasn’t covered in maggots in some unknown location Avilio would’ve decided to dispose of him. He was sitting on a carriage, a mere few inches from him, dosing himself canned pineapple slices as if they were some gourmet delicacy. A little ruffled up, slightly injured, but alive. Avilio wondered how the rough ride wasn’t making him sick to the stomach; he personally wouldn’t have dreamed of eating. On second thought, what nauseated him probably wasn’t how the wheels bounced off the rocks. There was something deeply disgusting about the entire scenario, how he calmly traveled around with the man who contributed to killing his family, took his childhood away and nearly murdered him. 

 

“Are you not going to have breakfast?”

 

“Not hungry.”

 

Oh, it was so fake. All of their interactions were a performance neatly set-up by Avilio. He knew he had a talent for deceiving people; it was as if God had outright created him for this purpose. A handsome face perfect for distraction and a slender, weasel-like build which made him a master of pickpocketing. Nero seemed convinced too, considering how many details he had coincidentally blabbered out to him about the day of his own childhood trauma. What was especially angering about his account was how nonchalantly he spoke about it, how the Lagusa were just unknown objects to him of which he needed to dispose. 

 

Not like he would’ve expected otherwise, the man mused as he pulled the reins, urging the horse to fasten its pace to get this journey over with sooner. There was no point in getting attachments as a mafioso.

 

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re even human” he heard Nero say from behind. He decided not to reply.

 

“You don’t eat, you don’t have feelings and you are practically the god of pickpockets” the other man continued. 

 

“What am I supposed to do, have some kind of feast with you, stuff myself with pineapples and dance around?” Avilio rolled his eyes.

 

“You seem restless. Here, let me take over” Nero had started climbing to the front.

 

“I don’t trust you with driving anything.” 

 

“Same here, you’ve been sitting there for hours. You’ll collapse sooner or later.”

 

Avilio gave up on objecting, stopped the carriage to place the leather straps in Nero’s hands and lied down in the back where his partner had been sitting previously. It could’ve been around 4 or 5 in the morning; the sun raised its head on the horizon. He had to acknowledge that he was more tired than he initially thought. The wooden planks were still warm from the other’s body heat, which Avilio tried desperately to perceive as a neutral outside circumstance rather than associate it with Nero.

 

Him? Not human? That was ironic, coming from the one who participated in a murder at fourteen. No, Vanetti was definitely the monster among the two of them. He could joke around, cause trouble and entertain kids all he wanted; he was never going to sway Avilio’s mind. 

 

Besides, what did ‘being human’ really mean? The reasonable part of his brain would’ve argued that Nero was 14 during the Lagusa family’s murder, or that he seemed to have changed considerably since then, acquiring an uplifting personality and an empathy which made him almost unfitting to be a mafia member. He remembered how much the other seemed to have been affected by Clemente’s death and how enthusiastically he had spoken about his childhood. 

 

Still, Avilio - Angelo - was unable to believe that all of that would’ve been enough to restore someone’s humanity. No one could backpedal after doing something so atrocious; Nero would forever be a monster, his conscience tainted and black as coal.  _ Black _ , like his name. A human being was, Avilio thought to himself, someone pure. Someone with enough common sense to be repulsed by murder.

 

_ Maybe he should kill him now; there’s a gun somewhere near him and his target is looking at the road. A nice, shiny pistol. All it would take is pull that trigger and it would all be over. His brains would splatter on the straw bale and the horse would go into panic and stop abruptly. _

 

Technically, it would’ve been an inconvenience to take revenge in this moment. He’d be running from the mafia all alone with no connections whatsoever. It shouldn’t have mattered, considering that Avilio had made killing Nero Vanetti his life goal. Still, he couldn’t reach out for the weapon and cut his existence short.  _ Just a little longer _ , he kept telling himself,  _ I’ll wait for the right moment _ . Yes, that had to be it.  _ The right moment _ . 

 

Avilio fell asleep and only woke up when the sunrays had gotten so strong they were practically piercing his skin. Due to the noise, Nero didn’t seem to notice how he sat up, stretched his arms and cracked his wrists. 

 

“Where are we?” he asked, shocking the man at the reins and making him turn his head around briefly.

 

“About to reach the next town” Nero replied, giving him a flashy grin. 

 

Despite the hot temperature, the weather was pleasant and Avilio found himself even  _ enjoying _ the current situation. There was a light breeze and birds chirping on the trees, a typical ‘nice day’ as children’s books would’ve described it. He felt a sudden urge to smile back at his partner, which he ended up repressing, keeping an emotionless expression. He normally faked some positive reactions; little smirks, snickers, jokes, friendly remarks. Feeling prompted to display a good mood on his own accord, however, was something new. Not the way it was supposed to be.

 

They parked the carriage right out of town when they arrived. 

 

“Are you sure we’ll be able to find it again if we leave it here?” Avilio asked, pointing at their means of transportation with his gaze.

 

“If we’re lucky, we might get a car” the older man blinked at him complicitly.

 

“Hey!” His partner attempted to stop him as he started casually walking away from the carriage. “We can’t keep getting into trouble! We’re already being hunted down as it is!”

 

“We wouldn’t go fast enough with this wreck anyway. Come on, get your junk.”

 

The latter ‘junk’ was referring to Avilio’s pineapple cans. He sighed and quickly hopped on board one last time to place the remaining food in a sack, threw it over his shoulder and followed suit. Nero’s stomach growled loudly a few minutes later; it was lunch time. Well, it was only his fault if he refused to eat what they had…

 

“Man, I could really use some decent food” he complained, as expected “And by ‘decent’ I mean not  _ that _ stuff” he added, pointing at the cans clattering inside the sack. 

 

“You think you could snatch a wallet or two?” Vanetti turned towards his companion at the lack of reaction. Avilio’s golden orbs quickly darted around on the street.

 

“Too many people.”

 

“What are your plans then?” 

 

Avilio looked down, his face obscured by the front of his cap. It wasn’t like he had come up with an alternative idea. He grinded his brain desperately for quick ways to make money; the problem was, they didn’t just need some to eat. They lacked ammunition and a vehicle, and some clean clothes would’ve also been nice. 

 

Suddenly, his eyes lit up. His hunger didn’t get in the way of his ingeniousness, after all.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


A slight look of uneasiness settled on Nero’s face as they entered the inn’s hidden backside (it had one, like any pub during the Prohibition). He was still struggling to believe Avilio’s plan wasn’t a joke; in fact, he was expecting him to go ‘Gotcha!’ at any moment. It was an excellent idea, technically, but was he really going to do it? Obstinate, cunning, secretive Avilio? 

 

“I’ll try to be quick; you stay here and drink.” the younger man instructed him, giving him a short pat on the shoulder. 

 

And Nero figured he’d better do what he was told, because Avilio was already approaching someone at the counter and he was close to fainting. He walked up to its other end, the farthest away possible from his partner, and asked for ‘the strongest thing they had’, habitually. 

 

He desperately tried to shift his focus from Avilio to the glass placed in front of him on the table which was located in the darkest corner of the room. A nearly impossible task… Bruno was currently engaging with some man in his fifties - another mafioso, judging by his suit. Nero couldn’t quite catch what he was saying, but the tone was nearly the same he would use when making a regular trade agreement. When Avilio leaned in a little closer, breaking the illusion of a  _ friendly _ conversation, he swiftly grabbed his drink and sent it down his throat in one go. The sheer strength of alcohol produced tears in his eyes and Nero could’ve even said he was grateful, because at least it prevented him from watching.

 

_ Turns out he was completely serious _ , he thought to himself, wiping his eyes and clearing his burning throat. He had no doubts that Avilio would be able to play male prostitute effortlessly with  _ that face _ , but changing his attitude like that? Acting coy around old men? He looked towards him again, observing the tan, veiny hand that crept up shamelessly on his companion’s thigh, and he still couldn’t believe it. Nero watched him laugh and smile flirtatiously, like he’d never seen him do, and for a second he was fooled into thinking that the person before him was savouring life in all its facets. 

 

He tried to make eye contact with Avilio who shot him a very brief glance while his ‘customer’ was busy laughing at one of his jokes. Despite lasting a millisecond, it was enough to get across the message.  _ Be patient, this won’t last very long _ . Or at least, that’s what Nero wanted to take from it. 

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Avilio sighed, feigning an air of enchantment and tipsiness, as well as admiration for the ‘big fish’ he had caught. If he could only find the right words to express how utterly his current position disgusted him… He even dared to say within himself that if he had to choose whom to kill among Vanetti and this guy right now, he would’ve went for the latter. 

 

He was nothing more than a wealthy alcohol trafficker. No special characteristics to him, no quirks and no defining features. In addition, he reeked of drinks and sweat. From far away, his well-tailored suit had fooled Avilio into thinking he would at least offer a more pleasant kind of physical contact… Oh, the regret. The nausea he had been feeling the entire day only got stronger with the other man’s sneaky touches; he ordered another glass of something that was supposed to be whisky and gulped it. 

 

Secret, alcohol-serving rooms were places where no rules applied. That is why, when the man took one of Avilio’s hands and kissed it in a rather cheesy and old-fashioned manner, no one around bat an eyelid. There was so much business in these circles which society frowned upon that an affair between two men wasn’t a bother to anyone; or if it was, they didn’t express their disapproval. Drinking never left Avilio unaffected, but he never managed to get drunk  _ just enough _ . In this situation, he would’ve rather been in the stage of forgetting his own name; instead, he remembered both Angelo Lagusa and Avilio Bruno, and even worse, he could still feel the stench emanating from the pervert who was now intent on kissing him on the lips. 

 

“That’s for when we take this to a bedroom” he scolded the man playfully, wagging a finger before his greasy face, as if he was talking to a child. 

 

“How chaste…” 

 

He leaned closer, and Avilio was about to pull away again, but then he realized he was trying to whisper in his ear and despite almost fainting from the smell, he would have to listen to a relevant piece of information. 

 

“It’s room 19 upstairs, I think we should go now.”

 

“I’d be  _ pleased  _ to-” Avilio responded suggestively “In a few minutes. I have some drinking debts I’ve yet to settle.”

 

“Hurry up” the older man winked at him, placing a key and a pile of banknotes in his hand, probably intended as a way of gentlemanly paying for his beverages. Avilio carefully observed which pocket he kept his wallet in.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Nero employed what seemed like the force of his entire body into lifting his head from the table. Someone had just patted his back. He looked up dizzily, directly into a pair of eyes of a peculiar, light-brown colour almost resembling gold. Vanetti wasn’t in the sleepy phase of drunkness yet; what made him sprawl all over the wooden surface so miserably was a mix of boredom, annoyance and desperation. The few drinks, which he normally would’ve handled perfectly, didn’t go well with his gaping empty stomach. 

 

“You done? Is it over?”

 

“It only just begins.” Avilio exhaled, looking forward to the end of this agony. 

 

“Listen,” he added on a more serious note “We’ll be in room 19. Wait outside the door, in case something happens.”

 

“So you’re really gonna do it?” Was all his partner apparently picked up from the instructions. Avilio dodged the comment and rubbed an eye, losing his patience but also being mellowed by the alcohol he had consumed.

 

“If you’re already there, you could just whore out point-blank” Nero spoke again. His companion violently smacked him in the back of the head.

 

“Do I look like I’m enjoying this?!”

 

“Yeah, actually, you do.” The comment was supposed to be a little poke, but instead it came out very bluntly; so much so that Avilio left towards the inn’s staircase without a word. He didn’t forget about slamming the money down in front of Nero, though.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


The door clicked twice; once upon Avilio entering, and another time when he closed it behind himself. In those one or two seconds he developed a strange attachment to the handle, to the point of not wanting to let go of it anymore. He stood there by the door, paralyzed, reveling in the last few relaxed moments he would have in the next couple of hours. He didn’t even bother to look up until his ‘customer’ shifted, making a slight, ruffling noise.

 

There were two options; either his plan succeeded, ending up in one more mafia member looking for him, or it failed and he was going to be shot or effectively raped. What made his doubts emerge in such a late stage of his little seduction-performance was looking at the half naked man who was sat on the bed, smoking a cigar. Avilio wasn’t positive he could overcome his personal aversion at this point. It was hairs and smell and sweat everywhere; revolting on a level the youngster didn’t even think existed.

 

“Are you stunned?” The trafficker chuckled, mucous coughs interspersed between the hiccups.

 

“Oh, absolutely” he squeezed the words out of his throat painfully.

 

Avilio removed his clothes one by one, trying not to display his disinterest. He didn’t stop until he was completely naked, his own skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat as well. The mafioso regarded him like a sommelier, testing him from tip to toe with his gaze. He was about to break the silence, noticing how the younger man looked more and more uncomfortable, but Avilio got ahead of him and climbed up the end of the bed. He was far enough from the other not to touch him at all.

 

“I propose something fun and a little special, mister,” he looked at him with hooded eyes and quickly completed the phrase “As a bonus, because I fancy you.”

 

“Tell me about it” the older man demanded, mischief lighting up his face.

 

“I will tie you to this bed post and blindfold you. You’ll be surprised by how much shutting down some of our senses can enhance the others…” Avilio carefully put a big emphasis on the word ‘enhance’, but the other man still seemed slightly baffled and skeptical.

 

“Nothing going up my ass, kid. You know that, right?”

 

“I know, I know. Don’t worry about that.” The phrase was completed by a wink.

 

As a sign of consent, the merchant lift up his hands, so they could be secured to the earlier mentioned bed post. Avilio instantly recognized the danger of the situation; his adversary, being physically stronger than him, could easily grab and neutralize him if he leaned above him to tie him up. The old man still seemed to find him suspicious. Since his words certainly didn’t give him away, it followed that the opponent would try to read body language to determine his trustworthiness.

 

Avilio got on all fours, approaching him with a subtle sway of hips. He tried to enact movements which had barely a hint of a sexual nature, so that they would be recognized as neither neutrality nor exaggeration. He stretched out, mere inches away from that heaving blob of fat and hairs, and took a discarded belt from the nightstand, knotting it around both his wrists and a metallic part of the bed. Then, he recovered the other’s necktie, tying it around a balding head already elevated from the pillow to facilitate the process. 

 

“Now, dear sir,” Avilio commenced in a theatrical tone, getting up and taking a few intentionally loud steps in the room “We must take our sweet time with this. Good fun is virtually spoilt if short-lasting.”

 

“You are one eccentric boy!” The trafficker laughed in drunken stupor. “When will I get to make love to that pretty mouth or ass of yours?”

 

“Soon enough!” the younger man cut him off. He was still pacing around in the room, and the blindfolded idiot lying on the bed probably imagined him walking with his hands behind his back in some dramatic posture. Nothing further from the truth. Avilio had already removed the wallet from his vest pocket with his sneaky fingers, between the third and the fourth step. He made the considerate extra step of snatching the box of cigars placed on the table. At nearly the tenth step, he arrived to his own pile of clothing. The two objects were now safe, in the lining of his coat.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Nero pulled back abruptly, landing on his backside, in the middle of the corridor. He nearly accidentally shot himself with the pistol in his hand. A few seconds later his heartbeat slowed down. What he was trying to avoid was the door being slammed into his face as he peeped through the keyhole, in case Bruno deemed this moment adequate for his escape. Nero returned to his earlier position; his companion didn’t show any intention to leave. All he saw in the room was a man with a cigar in his mouth, tied up like a moron, and that statuesque genius made of sharp bones and lean muscle, carrying himself around with the aloofness of a peacock. Or some mysterious god in disguise. Whatever he was, it was definitely not human. 

 

It might’ve had to do with alcohol, since Nero had the tendency to be the one to  _ act _ , instead of standing by. Still, he was perfectly happy with just watching the scene escalate this time. Maybe it was the relief of seeing that Avilio was capable enough not to be forced to come into any contact with that pig. Nero couldn’t pinpoint what about the opposite would’ve made him so outraged; most likely, he felt a lot of compassion for Bruno, as his fellow comrade. It would’ve been abhorrent to watch him actually prostitute himself. 

 

Avilio was done with the lazy circle he made in the room, still sweettalking the trafficker about the profane things they would do, picking up the ‘customer’s shirt in the meanwhile. Was he still pickpocketing? Vanetti almost gasped when he saw him climb onto the bed once again. What was Avilio doing? As much as the sight of the distance between them shrinking bothered Nero, the best he could do not to ruin the plan was to observe.

 

His partner was turning his back towards the door, so his actions weren’t entirely decipherable. His friend outside the door saw him take the cigar from the merchant’s surprised mouth and taking a long sip. Then, Avilio’s movements changed and everything went down very quickly. Nero heard screams muffled by a gag made of cloth material of some sort, then silence. The younger man slowly backed away. He wiped off the pocket knife in his hand - a knife Nero didn’t even  _ notice _ \- and closed it with a click, cigar still in mouth. It was hard to decide which attracted more attention; nude, smoking Avilio, or the corpse on the bed, splattered with blood around the throat. 

 

He redressed without hurry while Nero stood up and stepped away from the door on the other side. His accomplice appeared in the frame, locking the room with a click and hiding the key in his pocket. 

 

“That… wasn’t what you were supposed to do” Vanetti addressed him when he regained his willingness to speak. 

 

“Some people don’t deserve to live” came the emotionless response as they walked downstairs, trying to go unnoticed.

 

“What did he do besides trying to negotiate with a prostitute?” Nero couldn’t believe it, but he felt undignified enough to defend Avilio’s victim.

 

“I smelled the fetor of crime and corruption on him. He was one of the bad ones.”

 

“You’re involved with the mafia too” the older man rebutted when they sat down at his previous table, his companion depositing the wallet and the cigars between them.

 

“Would you compare me to the likes of him, Nero?” 

 

And the latter swallowed hard as Avilio looked him in the eyes so intently and demandingly. He felt hypnotized by that mysterious young man’s strange eye colour, his agility and cold cruelty. 

 

“You little shit.” He attempted to shrug off the topic comically, closing his eyes and massaging his forehead. “I wouldn’t compare you to anyone. Told you, you’re not even human.”

 

Avilio chuckled, resting his chin on his palm. Nero looked up again, at his half-lidded gaze, long bangs and soft features, suddenly understanding the seduction tactic even more somehow. He was already fairly inebriated, but his intuition told him that he should drink even more; the pull was so strong that he got up from his seat, directed at the counter. Avilio grabbed the sleeve of his shirt in his usual silence, then, when his partner raised an eyebrow at him, he explained.

 

“We can’t spend all the money now.”

 

“Have you even looked at how much we have?”

 

It turned out to be a fair suggestion. Not only did they find a fortune worth probably every drink in the pub, but there was a booklet too, which - as Avilio pointed out - was a driving license. 

 

“We’re finding his car tomorrow!” Nero grinned. “What drink do you want?”

 

“Whatever you’re having” the other shrugged, unintentionally cracking a small smile. He was very clearly drunk too.

 

Vanetti must’ve seen his expression because he decided to react by patting him on the cheek twice as an affectionate gesture. Unfortunately, he was even less able to coordinate his movements in this moment, so the pats became something closer to slaps, and he left his palm on Avilio’s face for just a second longer than he should have. Nero turned around to walk away while his thumb accidentally brushed against plush, wet lips. Thank God they haven’t been defiled by a pervert, he thought to himself, suddenly realizing how the phrase sounded a little wrong.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Drinking didn’t help them at all. Both men completely forgot about lunch and were now bursting out in laughter at rather stupid and unsophisticated things. Nero ranted about something related to women and what wicked, inexplicable creatures they were with all those whims and unreadable desires. Inside, he kept making a desperate attempt to not mention the other’s earlier actions, but the temptation to sway the discourse in that direction was stronger than him.

 

“Man, I kinda understand why some guys prefer male prostitutes… Sounds like so much less trouble!” He leaned back, hands crossed behind his nape. 

 

“Not all of them are good-looking, you know. It’s hard to find someone who looks feminine enough” Avilio sighed in disbelief that he had to explain this. 

 

“What, you went with male whores?” Nero stared at him with gleaming eyes, gripping the edge of the table like a child in overexcitement. Before the other could even reply, he already cut him off.

 

“Well, forgive me for this, but maybe it’s just hard to find someone more feminine than  _ you _ , wouldn’t you think?

 

“Oh? Are you calling me feminine now? After I saved your life?”

 

Nero shut up at that and emptied what was probably his last glass of liquor. He exhaled, still stunned by the strength of the substance, and he could swear he saw Avilio chuckling at him a little, like the sneaky bastard he was. 

 

“Must feel great though” he made the benevolently vague remark, ruining it a second later. “Most girls don’t let you put it in the ass.”

 

“So you’re the kind of gentleman who would try something like that in the first place. Good to know.”

 

“It’s useless for you to play prude after that little show in room 19” Nero poked back. His slowed down comprehensive skills only called his attention now to something he disregarded.  _ Good to know _ ? Why? 

 

“You watched the whole thing?” Avilio sighed after shaking his head in exasperation.

 

“I only wanted to know exactly when to step in” the other mumbled, looking away with a bit of shame. He knew well enough that the technical one wasn’t his only motivation, but that wasn’t something he could just tell Bruno; he didn’t want to be seen as a pervert. He grew on Nero so much that somehow his opinion had gained a major significance. It was a personal deficit of his, becoming so fond of his comrades. 

 

“Jesus, Avilio. I was worrying my ass off this entire day, just so you know” he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

 

“Huh?”

 

“That swine wasn’t keeping his hands to himself.”

 

“Why are you so upset about it? I’m willing to do this much to survive.”

 

Nero lacked a coherent explanation. The couple sitting at the table behind them was bickering loudly and someone had just broken a jug in another corner of the bar. The surroundigs made him too dizzy to even see, let alone think. 

 

“Look,” he began, standing up and almost tipping over “I’ll go get a room. Just ask the innkeeper which one it was and join me whenever you like. I need to get some sleep.”

 

He bumped into the table, not even turning towards Avilio who, in turn, hopped on his feet to support the drunk. He tried to keep him standing by putting one of Nero’s arms around his shoulders, but it was still hard to counter the body weight. 

 

“I think it’s better if I go with you now.”

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Nero splashed another gallon of water into his face, then cupped his hands in order to drink from the tap. 

 

“I think I’m sobering up” he announced in a rather demoralized tone. 

 

“It was about time” Avilio commented, intent on depositing the few things he had been keeping in his pockets on the nightstand. 

 

The room they rented for the night had a king-size bed and a smaller one; they decided to get single person accomodation and ask for one extra bed in order to save money. The younger man went for the more modest option, on which he was now lying, still wearing his clothes. He still felt some of the liquor’s effects.

 

_ Is it the right moment yet? Now Nero’s slower than usual and tired; he’s letting his guard down. The pistol is right next to him. All he has to do is walk into the bathroom and aim for his nape while he’s leaning down to drink. Or grab the back of his head and keep it underwater until he drowns. _

 

Avilio was tired of violence and decided that one murder would be enough for that day. In the meanwhile, that  _ monster _ he was planning to kill reappeared. He seemed out of sync with reality, but then some newfound serious look appeared on his face.

 

“Oh, right, Avilio.”

 

The other man didn’t understand first. Not that he had any time to even try; in his current position, he was unable to dodge Vanetti leaping towards him and pinning him to the bed. He held both his wrists above his head with a force that would certainly leave some red marks. 

 

“Are you still drunk?” Since he certainly couldn’t wiggle his way out in the literal sense, Avilio tried to do so verbally, although he recognized how small his chance of succeeding was. 

 

This was the end. It was only his fault, really; he had waited too much for the  _ Perfect Moment _ , so much that now he was going to die before it even came. It wouldn’t even be a honourable death, killed by a beast masquerading itself as a human being. Of course he knew everything from the beginning, and of course he was going to devour the only one who could see through his disguise.

 

“I think it’s time for me to be honest, for the first time this evening” Nero panted. 

 

The man below him stared questioningly, trying to keep a straight face at the impending doom. His nemesis leaned close to his ear. He smelled like cologne and only from such an uncomfortable distance were his meticulously trimmed beard and strangely well-kept teeth visible. Angelo Lagusa closed his eyes and waited for his death sentence.

 

“I was so irritated all the time, when that man was touching you and talking to you. And I realized why, when I saw you in that room... “ The younger man froze in confusion while the other was getting tangled up in his words. 

 

“Avilio, fuck, if only you knew how you looked… You walked there, like a pale incubus, robbing him of everything... And the dirty things you said… It was stunning. I’m confused. I don’t know anymore.”

 

“You… are not getting to the point” was the only answer the other could squeeze out. Somehow, he wasn’t so sure he was going to die anymore.

 

“You know what I thought?” Nero continued, not backing away from Avilio’s ear. “ _ I _ wanted to be there, instead of that guy. I would’ve let you tie me up and blindfold me all the same. Hell, I would’ve even let you slit my throat afterwards, if only I could’ve had… If only you would’ve…” He moved a little backwards, seemingly cursing at his inability to be specific.

 

“Nero?” The baffled Avilio asked with unintended softness.

 

“To hell with this. I wanted to push you down and fuck you into the mattress. I imagined how amazing it would be to listen to you cry out my name with that phlegmatic voice of yours… How you would scream and moan like a whore and  _ fuck _ , how absolutely  _ fantastic  _ it would feel… I was kneeling in front of that door and all I could think of was your beautiful face  _ contorting _ with pleasure… Forgive me. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

 

As bizarre as the state of affairs was, Avilio couldn’t help but bask in the immense relief befalling upon him in that moment. His heart suddenly felt lighter, his stomach had stopped contracting. It was such a pure and sincere happiness; to be alive and to be in this situation rather than a much worse one. It was like escaping death and it made him so euphoric that his mood changed in a direction he hadn’t experienced for several years now. He felt experimental, completely giving up his composure.

 

He cracked a smile with half-lidded eyes and exhaled. Nero was staring at him intensely awaiting for some kind of reaction. The younger man attempted to free one hand from the grip, easily succeeding. He lazily wrapped his fingers around his companion’s tie, pulling at the knot lightly to undo it just a little. 

 

“Fine, then. Do whatever you want to me.” Then he yanked abruptly, bringing their lips together.

 

Nero kissed him with fervor, as if to give legitimacy to his earlier stream of ramblings. Avilio couldn’t keep up with his level of enthusiasm; before he knew, there was already a tongue in his mouth and crass fingers unbuttoning his shirt. The excitement of his plan not being discovered was starting to wear off and shift into another sensation which, surprisingly, wasn’t even a negative one. Avilio was having some second thoughts, considering how disgusted he had been with his ‘client’ during their encounter, but he had to realize that ‘sex with men’ probably wasn’t so much of a general category. Maybe it also depended on  _ which _ man one had sex with. 

 

And God, was Nero Vanetti an infinitely better candidate. He was clean and tidy and had a body that was actually pleasant to look at. Avilio slipped out of his suspenders, the other man still kissing him and starting to remove his own clothes as well. The garments slowly piled up on the floor. 

 

Nero’s reaction to finally having Avilio naked under him was an absolute confirmation of his honesty. He looked consumed by lust as soon as his eyes were able to roam through the other’s body; his protruding hip- and collarbones, his relaxed muscles, his already hard cock and the faint blush on his face when he noticed that he was being examined. 

 

“Did you actually know I was watching? Were you trying to seduce me?” Nero asked in a raspy voice. 

 

_ How arrogant _ , Avilio thought. But then again, he  _ did _ suspect that Vanetti would watch and who knows, maybe that brought some improvement to his performance. He clutched the older man’s hand and pushed it against his neck first, bringing it all the way down on his own torso. Those fingertips - the same ones pulling the trigger to attempt his murder - brushed over his nipples, later approaching his pubic area. He felt more blood pooling in his erection just thinking about how many people those hands have killed and how he was able to lead an influential mafioso on a leash with absolutely no effort. 

 

Soon, there was no need for Avilio to provide incentive to the other to touch him. Nero fondled his thigh and ass with one hand while rubbing a nipple with the other. He was employing his experience with women, his partner took notice, since he didn’t even attempt to jerk him off. Vanetti seemed torn between the selfish act of relieving his frustration and pleasing his partner. Not that Avilio minded particularly; he was becoming aware of just how much effect the stimulation was having on him. Was it about him not having gotten laid for months or was he sexually attracted to his biggest enemy? He may never know.

 

“Mmhh, I want you so much.” Nero whispered in his ear breathily. “I want you more than any woman I’ve met or ever been with in my life.”

 

He squeezed Avilio’s buttcheek harder, making him let out a loud moan. The younger man was already drenched in sweat - more out of frustration than anything - and his dick was  _ painfully _ hard. He soon realized, though, that Nero’s remaining drunkenness was still preventing him from being aware of another person’s needs (or his surroundings, for that matter). 

 

Avilio flipped both of them around with a sudden and forceful gesture, getting on top of the older man and straddling his hips. His chest was heaving and his bangs obscured his vision, canceling out a few strands of his partner’s confused face. He felt his cock twitch behind him and rubbed against it just to torture the other a little more.

 

“You talk too much” he said coldly “Since you wouldn’t get on with fucking me, it looks like I’ll have to use you as a mere object to pleasure myself.”

 

He saw Nero swallowing hard, remembering how turned on he had supposedly been by this kind of powerplay while watching through the keyhole. He leaned forward, practically lying on top of the other, supporting himself with his elbows. 

 

“You better have some kind of lotion, or else you can jerk off here alone for all I care” he threatened softly.

 

“Ah… Yes, it’s in the-  _ Fuck. _ In my jacket” Nero spoke as he felt his companion grind against his erection even harder. Avilio got off of him and retreived the small bottle which was indeed inside a pocket. He returned to his earlier position, almost jumping on the older man (who probably felt like he broke a rib).

 

“Don’t you dare do something until I’m done here” he commanded, his true attitude towards his enemy faintly manifesting itself.

 

He uncapped the small container, dipped in a finger to scoop out just enough oil, then placed it on the nightstand, diverting his attention to more important things. His partner and secret nemesis panted under him. Avilio reached down to his own anus and pushed in with two fingers right off the bat. It wasn’t a good idea; he winced and waited the discomfort to be over. As soon as he felt relaxed enough, he started stretching himself, occasionally letting out a whimper and locking eyes with Nero for the entire time. The latter seemed to be in absolute awe with that pretty, devilish young man pleasing himself with his fingers  _ so close to him _ , moaning and whining, his body begging to be ravished. 

 

“Oh God…” Nero exclaimed, a tad too loud “Please, have mercy on me…”

 

Avilio could’ve been mean and masturbated right there just to not let Vanetti have his satisfaction. However, there was something about the situation - either how the last sentence sounded as if he was being worshipped, or the desperate little smile on his enemy’s face - that urged him to benevolence. 

 

He shifted backwards, lining up with Nero’s cock and sank down on it. He hadn’t been focusing on himself up until now, but  _ fuck _ , did it feel good. Not only did Avilio get an impression of having deceived his revenge target completely, but he was also turning back to the role he had set up for himself in the earlier planned robbery. He knew he’d regret this later, but he found himself enjoying the whore-character and the hypersexuality. Having another man’s cock in his ass suddenly seemed erotic, especially combined with the detail of who  _ the man _ actually was.

 

His train of thoughts was cut off abruptly. Nero, that bastard, reverted their roles again, shoving him down onto the bed with his erection still fully sheathed. 

 

“Wha- Aaaah!” Avilio moaned unintentionally when the other man attempted to push in even deeper.

 

“Being a tease gets annoying after a while.” He grabbed the younger man’s hips (yet another bruise that would be visible tomorrow) and started fucking him, his expression revealing a state of bliss.

 

“Ah… AH! Nero…! No… Aaah!” Avilio felt the shame in his guts, but there was no turning back at this point. He had to start being honest with himself and admit that  _ maybe _ he was more attracted to men than he thought and  _ maybe _ the fact that he enjoyed every second of being ravaged and subdued wasn’t due to him being a good actor.

 

“Oh fuck, please, harder!” he groaned, letting his stream of consciousness flow without restrictions. All he wanted was for that big shaft re-entering his ass to push more against the walls of his rectum; the friction, the sensation, the pleasure… 

 

Nero emitted a grunt with each thrust, quite obviously enjoying every bit of the act. While Avilio was fixated on his own sexual gratification, the older man took the opportunity to jerk him off, tweak his nipples, leave hickeys all over his collarbones and even bite into his shoulder. He felt that he was getting close and he presumed the same about his partner, judging by his cries. 

 

“Avilio… Ahhh… I’m going to come” he announced, fucking the other man and simultaneously stroking his penis faster and faster. 

 

His companion released just a second before him, spurting semen all over his own stomach while Nero rode out his orgasm, letting out a loud moan at his climax. Avilio’s brain went completely numb from the pleasure and the shock, not even daring to think of all the things he had done that he would soon not be too happy about. It frightened him how good of an orgasm he had experienced objectively. 

 

The few moments of lying there - the two of them - in that small bed, made for one, felt like infinity. Nero looked like he needed some rest and was already starting to fall asleep. Avilio, on the other hand, stared blankly at nothing with widened eyes. He wanted to clean himself, maybe get dressed, pull out a cigarette and have a smoke; instead, he was paralyzed. The night felt a little cold and he heard the faint sound of crickets from far away. His gaze then wandered towards Nero Vanetti, his hated enemy, the one he was planning to kill, the one who had tried to kill him. A dumb smile was plastered on his face and he smelled like cologne, innocence and genuine happiness. Angelo wasn’t aware of the fact that he was still awake, so it startled him when the other made an offhanded comment.

 

“Are you gonna kill me too now?”

  
  


\-----------

  
  
A ‘human’ is a person; in the stricter sense, someone who possesses the (physical, psychological and moral) characteristics common among people. Said characteristics can be either merits or flaws. A person’s ‘humanity’ is lost whenever he or she commits an act (usually negative) that goes beyond society’s most basic ethical code, or doesn’t feel remorse for having overstepped a moral boundary. ‘Humanity’ might be regained by repenting for one’s wrongdoings.


End file.
